Shadow of the flame
by kiwifluffy
Summary: Primrose Everdeen is dead. Kind of. Really, she's watching these games, the one that her sister ordered the creation of because she died. And she's hating herself for dying, hating her sister for ordering these deaths.
1. Chapter 1

My name is Primrose Everdeen and I am dead.

Not a good way to start a story.

I was training to be a medic in district 13, living with my mother and my sister Katniss, but Katniss had gone to the Capitol to fight for the rebels. I was there too, helping kids who had just been bombed, when the second round of explosives went off just as I saw my sister.

I died.

I'm floating now, I can see everything. I know everything that everyone is thinking, and I know that sometime I will have to leave, but not yet. Until these games are over, I will not leave this world. Katniss said that they should happen because I died, anyway.

Unlike the other seventy-five sets of the Hunger Games that have occurred, these ones are not reaped from the districts, but the children of the richer Capitol citizens. The anthem is playing right now, and I can see the chariots coming out, and I feel even guiltier that I couldn't stop Katniss from saying yes to this.

The girl in the first chariot is Virginia Snow, the President's granddaughter. With eyes like smoking ice and blonde hair flying out behind her, a long white dress with diamonds in the seams, a red rose pinned over her heart, she looks beautiful. And somehow, deadly. Next to her, is the son of the Mayor of District Eleven. He was a special request from that district, who had suffered for years under his father's harsh rule. His skin in darker than most of the Capitol kids and he appears almost pitiful in a black suit with a white tie. Neither of them are paying any attention to the audience, even though it is clear from his red-rimmed eyes that he has been crying.

I don't know the names of the next two, only that they are brother and sister, the children of some rich Capitol citizens. Halfway down the stadium she collapses in tears and she hugs her brother. They are wearing matching clothes, plain red and black.

The third chariot rolls out to a roar from the crowd. Of course. There are rumours going around that are most definitely not true but quite popular, that the explosion that killed me and the other kids was set off by Snow's military advisor. His daughter Flora and her cousin Marcus are smiling and waving to the crowd, but I know that both of them are terrified.

Then something really odd happens. The five-year old daughter of another rich Capitol citizen, accompanied by her seventeen-year old brother, are standing in the fourth carriage. Fury surges through me. _A five year old? _The rest of the parade dissolves and I see only this one carriage, see her brother's protection struggling even now, and I wish that I could help her. But there's nothing I can do.

The training scores, interviews. Not surprisingly, Snow's granddaughter conducts herself well in the interviews but there is a coldness about her, a willingness to kill. She is like her grandfather, like a snake, the ideal weapon being poison. The only other tribute who stands out is the mayor's son, who has a good training score as he can identify plants. At least he learnt something out there, away from the Capitol.

I feel terrible about these games, a hard thing to say since technically I can't feel anything. But these Capitol children have only seen the games as entertainment. It's not their fault; it's their parents or grandparents. Now they will understand what we saw in the districts, but they will lose twenty-three of their own in a single year to the games. I find that I can't hate them, no matter what they did to Katniss. Because I know what she is going to do to them.


	2. Chapter 2

Trumpets sound and twenty-four terrified children glide effortlessly into the arena of their deaths. I swoop lower, watching a light breeze twist the tops of the trees above my head. I fly over the tributes slowly but pause over the Mayor's son. Unlike the others, he knows what these games are about, yet he stands tall and proud, unfazed by what lies ahead. Before I move on, however, I hear a quiet voice from behind me.

'He was always like that, back in Eleven. He kept his head held high no matter what was said about him and still tried to help us. Not like his father.' She hesitates then adds, 'his name's Robin.'

I turn slowly, cautiously, but I have my suspicions as to who is following me. Floating a few metres above the ground, with the sun shining behind her, she looks stronger than she appeared when she was alive, still small but full of energy. She still wears the green and brown clothing of her games yet the injury that killed her and the makeshift memorial Katniss created are nowhere to be the surprise on my face, Rue smiles and circles around me to tuck in the back of my shirt, which is hanging out like a duck tail. I don't have to ask her what she is doing staying on this world, or when she plans to leave. She leads me over to the forest and takes one of the leaves, looking questioningly at me.

I glide over for a better look. The leaf is pale green and dry, unlike any I have seen is curved like a crescent moon and hangs on a thin, brittle branch. I have never seen a forest close to this one before, not in any book or a lifetime of watching the Hunger Games. Something tells me its real, though, and not invented by the Capitol scientists, I look into Rue's wide eyes and see the bewilderment in my eyes reflected in hers. Before we can speculate further, though, the gong rings out and neither of us can tear our eyes away from the Cornucopia as they rush forwards, lunging for supplies and weapons that will save their lives in this alien landscape, completely oblivious to the unlikely spectators in the trees above.

There's an unspoken agreement between Rue and Ion where we go, and both of us follow Robin as he sprints away from the Cornucopia into the forest. He's fast and strong, with a build similar to Thresh from Rue's games, more a man than a boy- he's going on 16. He got himself a sturdy pack and a scythe before the bloodbath started, at which point he bolted into the forest like a startled rabbit. I kept an eye on the other tributes, though, and I caught a glimpse of Virginia Snow, her long hair flying out behind her, taking possession of a large assortment of knives, which I have no doubt she is proficient in the use of. From the scarce glances I caught as we fled through the forest, none of the other tributes showed the scarcest ability to handle a weapon or survive outside the Capitol- even though no amount of survival knowledge will change the mystery of these forests.

It's mid afternoon when the cannons start to go off. I grab Rue's arm as the dead are counted, watching Robin's eyes go wide and then fill with determination as the number climbs higher and higher.

Fourteen.

Robin is reacting in the same way as many of the outer district tributes do, the ones who have a chance but no allies to depend on- a relief that he is still alive, not a murderer, yet refusing to acknowledge the deaths of another arena full of keeps walking on, further from the Cornucopia, me and Rue trailing behind. Suddenly he freezes in fear and fascination, staring across the hillside. I search the area but see nothing until Rue gives a startled gasp and points at an animal crouching in a boulder cluster at the base of the slope. It has long ears like a rabbit and a face like that of an elongated dog. Its tail is of a ridiculous length and it has a pouch over its stomach. Despite all this, the strangest part of this jumble of creatures is the paws. With two hind legs with huge feet that it stands on, and two front paws that seem too short to serve a purpose, I can not help but feel that this must be the Game-maker's idea of fun. Robin, moving swiftly but silently, pulls a slingshot that he had created earlier in the afternoon from a pocket and looses a stone at the creature. It shoots through the air and hits the _thing_ with a tremendous force, yet it hops away, unharmed. The sun has almost set now and Robin settles down in a clump of bushes with bright red flowers, staring up at the sky as the anthem begins. The sky lights up with the eagle of Panem, then the whole sky seems to be on fire and the Mockingjay symbol of the rebellion rises out of the smoke. The fire dies away and nine faces light up the sky.

Apart from the five year old and her cousin, I don't recognise any of them. The only tributes I know by name are Robin and Virginia Snow. Rue and I settle down in the branches above Robin, watching the forest, two silent guards from another world.

* * *

On the other side of the arena, Virginia Snow sits next to a stream, her long legs dangling gracefully in the water. She carefully pours a handful of berries onto a rock and rubs them into the knives she took from the Cornucopia. Her grandfather had been clever, had realized that something like this could happen. She knew every metre of this arena, could identify every plant and animal.

Her grandfather didn't do favourites, only least favourites. But she had come close with her natural ability in the kind of warfare that is perhaps the cruellest. Poison.

The oil on her knives threw off shards of moonlight as she strode confidently through the forest to hunt.

* * *

Far away, blaring on screens throughout Panem, two newsreaders talk excitedly about the first day and the Fourteen dead tributes. The weapons, the skills that were never revealed before the games, the forest. And the whole country finds out about the other land area that survived, somewhere that was once called 'Australia' that had forests that exploded in fires and animals with pouches and long ears that hopped called 'kangaroos.' All of Panem stares in awe at the creatures that inhabit the land. All of Panem knows what to expect.

Except, of course, the ten remaining tributes.

* * *

Hidden underneath the Capitol, a heated argument is proceeding over a dot. Or rather, two.

'There's no doubt about it,' the young woman says worriedly, pushing her glasses back and wiping her forehead with her sleeve. 'There are no life signs, but the electrical signals there match those of the human brain _exactly._ There are two brains sitting in that tree, right above Eleven.'

'There can't be.' That was Haymitch, his rough voice echoing around the chamber. 'There is nothing in that arena we don't know about. Just a glitch.'

The woman nods reluctantly, her eyes dancing once more over the two blue specks in the tree. 'It's happened before' she whispers, glancing terrified at the other victors as they enter the room. 'The 74th games. Just after that girl Rue died, one of them appeared right above her body. It followed Katniss until the end of the games and was never seen again.'

Haymitch shrugs, as if this is proof of the malfunctioning software. But, as he turns away, a frown flits across his face. His dreams where Rue and Prim were begging him to stop the games flashed before his eyes. Katniss said she had seen them too, but neither one stopped the games from proceeding. What if the young victims of the rebellion were here?

What if they were watching him now?


End file.
